


Thunderstruck

by sv_you_know_who_I_am



Series: A Court of War and Starlight One-Shots [7]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, First Time, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sv_you_know_who_I_am/pseuds/sv_you_know_who_I_am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nesta and Cassian head to the Illyrian Steppes to recruit for the War, but the fear of the oncoming battle has them thinking that there are a few things they should try before they go to war . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstruck

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a companion to "A Court of Wart and Starlight", but it is not necessary to know the whole plot of the ACOWAS to understand this. All you need to know is that Nesta and Cassian are mates, but are not yet ready to accept the bond. That doesn’t stop them from getting . . . acquainted, however.

 

It was very hard to focus on flying with Nesta’s lips on his neck.

Cassian was proud of himself, though. He was able to fly for a whole hour before needing to land and push Nesta up against the bark of an ancient tree and kiss her in return. His blood burned as her body pressed against his, as she returned his kisses hungrily and without restraint. He _loved_ having her all to himself. At first it had been irritating when she had insisted upon keeping their relationship discreet, but he’d become used to it and had learned to enjoy how their subtlety in public allowed them such freedom in their private moments.

After a while, they were both short on breath, and Nesta leaned against the tree. She looked up at him, a wild grin on her face, as he loomed over her. “Did you see the look on Feyre’s face?” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “She can’t figure it out.”

Nesta chuckled. “I’ll admit it’s fun knowing better than the High Lady. Feyre has always had the tendency to put her nose where it doesn’t belong, anyway.”

Cassian leaned forward and put his nose where it _did_ belong--grazing the skin of Nesta’s glorious neck. “We still have a distance to go,” he said. “As much as I would _love_ . . . we need to get there before dark.”

Nesta nodded and let him gather her into his arms. It was easier holding her now that neither of them were fighting it. Before, it had been a fight every time--the desire to pull away battling with the desire to never let go. But now that they had both embraced it, accepted it . . .

Not the bond itself. Cassian hadn’t asked again since the mountain, hadn’t even wanted to. Nesta had made it clear that she wanted to wait until after the war, and he wouldn’t dare press her on it. It wouldn’t be right, and he knew she wouldn’t bend even if he did press. But Nesta’s self-assuredness was one of the things he loved best about her, and he would never seek to change that.

“She does know we’re mates, though,” Cassian said as he continued flying them through the air.

“She does?” Nesta asked sharply. “How?”

Cassian swallowed. “I talked to Rhys about it. Before . . . well, before I ever admitted it to you. I didn’t know what to do about it, and it’s not the sort of thing you keep from your best friend of five centuries and then some. I’m sure he told Feyre.”

Nesta grumbled under her breath. “Do they know about our decision?”

Cassian shook his head, even as the word _our_ made his heart ache with warmth. “Rhys doesn’t pry. And I haven’t spoken to him about it since then.”

“Well, at least one of them can mind their own business,” Nesta sighed.

They flew in silence for a while, Cassian lost in thought as he held her beautiful body close to him. He wished he could stop himself thinking about what she would look like without any clothes on, but it was a challenge, especially after he’d seen her in that dress at the Court of Nightmares. It had been a fight all night not to steal her away into a corner and kiss every bit of her exposed skin. Only his dedication to his High Lord and High Lady was enough to make him focus with the temptation of Nesta at his side all night.

He had not bedded her yet. Hadn’t even undressed her. Only stole a couple of hours every night to kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, wherever she would let him. And though he burned for her, he never asked for anything more than she was willing to give, and he swore he never would. His favorite moments were when he could hold her against his chest like this, permitted to touch her legs and her hips in ways that he usually didn’t.

She had finally confessed to him, too, that his touch stilled the roiling magic within her. He’d suspected that when he’d first found her in the Summer Court forest, but she had explained to him since the mountain. The Siphon, she’d said, helped, though it didn’t completely contain all of her magic. She still had to put a great deal of thought and energy into suppressing the Cauldron’s influence. Helion had given her some techniques that helped, but it was a constant burden on her mind.

Since she’d let him in, Cassian had done what he could to help her. It had become a dance between the two of them. In the mid-afternoon, when most of the Day Court retired inside, he flew her out to the mountains and sparred with her, letting her drain the magic that filled her and teaching her how to focus it using her Siphon. He had already figured out that the Siphon was only a temporary measure, but it helped her for now. She took his breath away with the power she possessed. It was hard to say which of it was naturally hers and which was enhanced by the Cauldron, but she was powerful. Perhaps not more powerful than Rhys, but damn close. Give her a few centuries, and . . .

Cassian’s heart clenched. He could only pray to the Mother that he’d have centuries with her.

Just as he was thinking these thing, Nesta’s grip tightened around his neck and she leaned up to whisper, “I . . . I need a moment.” His attention immediately turned to her vitals, and he noticed that her breath was tighter and her pulse a bit faster. But the tell-tale sign was her dilated pupils. Cassian immediately coasted to the ground in the middle of the trees. They were less than an hour from the Illyrian camps at this point, but she needed to get it out of her system now while they were too far to draw attention.

He deposited her on the ground and strode across the clearing from her, activating the Siphons on his hands as he went. He whirled to face her. Her hair rippled even though there was no breeze, and her jaw was tight as her eyes found him. “Give me your best shot,” he challenged, forming his Illyrian power into shields in front of him.

She snarled and the Siphon at her neck glowed as she sent a pulse of magic toward him--lightning, he realized. That was new. He snapped his arm in front of him and his Siphon shields absorbed the magic, rocking him back though he did not yield his stance. “Fancy!” he called. “Have you tried hail?”

He didn’t have to say more than that before pebbles of ice came shooting across the clearing at him. He again shielded and then pushed outward to cast the ice away from him. “My turn!” he shouted, and he sent a pulse of his own magic toward her. Spreading her arms, Nesta created a stormcloud before her body, and it absorbed his power before dissipating, leaving her completely unharmed. He sent another pulse of magic, this time a stream of it shooting toward her feet to knock her off-balance.

But then Nesta lifted off the ground. Hovering.

Flying.

Cassian was so stunned that he dropped his shield for half a moment, enough for Nesta to send a pulse of wind toward him and it knocked him off his feet, causing his wings to flare, though it wasn’t enough to keep him from knocking against a tree trunk. The tree groaned and Cassian righted himself, enough to see Nesta still hovering there, her face pale and shocked, though her eyes had returned to normal. “You can . . . you can fly,” Cassian gasped, cautiously stepping toward her. She seemed like she’d balanced herself out, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Is that what I’m doing?” she asked. She took a step--and remained in the air.

“Can you go higher?” Cassian asked. She was only a few inches off the ground right now.

“I don’t know,” Nesta murmured. She took another step, but this time as though she was taking a flight of stairs. And she rose. A smile broke out on her face and she laughed--sweet and triumphant. “I have no idea how I’m doing this,” she said, “but I like it.”

“So do I,” Cassian said hoarsely. His mate--his mate could _fly_.

Nesta took another step up and closer to him, but then suddenly she faltered, and her face flicked in fear before she tumbled out of the sky . . .

. . . right into Cassian’s arms.

She let out a huff and a nervous laugh. “So much for that,” she said.

Cassian kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll work on it.” He looked her over. “Are you good?”

She nodded. “Much better.”

Cassian took the opportunity to fly again, but he tilted his head toward her as she said, “I think I’m starting to understand.”

“Understand what?” he asked.

“How it works. My magic. It used to be all my emotions, and I was so angry that it was mostly fire for a long time. But everything else . . . lightning, clouds, water, flying . . . I’m a storm.”

Cassian sucked in a deep breath and squeezed her closer. “You are,” he murmured, his voice rough. “My storm.”

“ _Yours_?” Nesta asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Does that bother you?” Cassian asked. He smirked, though nerves made his heart stutter.

She bit her lip, considering, before saying, “No. You’re the only one who can handle me, anyway.”

Cassian’s blood heated. How badly he wanted to show her how well he could _handle_ her. But he just growled, “I am,” before scraping his teeth along her neck and making her shudder against him as they flew through the sky.

-

Late that night, Cassian thudded into the stone hut he’d ordered vacated for him and Nesta. It was only one bedroom, but Nesta said she didn’t mind.

Nesta.

If he hadn’t fallen in love with her a dozen different times by now, he would have done so tonight as he’d witnessed her stand before the Illyrians and terrify them the way he’d never seen them terrified before. The way she’d threatened Lord Devlon had been nothing compared to how she had obliterated the balls of every Illyrian soldier in the premises.

Cassian had been managing them, of course, delegating as was his duty and sorting out which groups he would send where, but inevitably one of them had decided to be insubordinate.

“How do we know life won’t be better with Hybern in charge?” a wing leader had demanded haughtily.

That was enough to set Nesta off.

The storm that was her magic rumbled around her as she’d roared at the wing leader, detailing _exactly why_ he was lucky to have Cassian as a commander and Rhys and Feyre as High Lord and High Lady. And all the things she knew Hybern would do--wing clipping. Slaughter. Dishonor.

And Cassian, too awed to say anything even if he’d wanted to, had simply let her go on.

The first flash of lightning from her fingertips assured everyone in the camp that the commander’s companion was no one to be trifled with.

Cassian shut the door and locked it, rolling his shoulders and watching Nesta with careful eyes. She stood by the mantle of the fireplace, looking tired and afraid--a vulnerability that he hadn’t seen in a while. “Nesta,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”

“This is where you grew up?” she asked, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

Cassian chuckled. “I didn’t have a house until Rhys took me in. Just found whatever tree branches worked for a roof and curled under those.”

“I’m sorry for calling you a bastard.”

Cassian’s breath in his chest. “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch.”

Nesta huffed a laugh. “You were right, though. I was a bitch. You, though . . . I didn’t realize what it meant. Not really. Proving yourself to these people, when . . . when you’re _obviously_ superior to them . . .”

Cassian crossed the room and stood close to her, though he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. “I don’t care about them anymore,” he said. It was mostly true. It still--well, he would always have his pride, which could be injured, but their opinion . . . that didn’t matter so much. Not when Nesta . . . Nesta saw him. Nesta was enough. He raised his hand and stroked her cheek, marveling at its softness beneath his callouses.

Nesta rose on her toes and kissed him, and Cassian couldn’t contain himself. He buried her in his arms and kissed her so deeply she had to tip her head back to accommodate it. His tongue stroked the roof of her mouth and she trembled, pressing herself further against him until he could feel both of their heartbeats. “Nesta . . .” he groaned in her mouth.

She gasped and ripped away from him, taking several steps across the room. She was pale and her breath was harried. She held a hand to her mouth. “Dammit,” she whispered.

Cassian felt the absence of her like an ache deep within him. “What is it?” he asked.

“I just . . .” Nesta took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Just, seeing all of them, seeing _you_ as a commander in action, it just . . . this is going to be a real war, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve always known. I thought I was prepared for it, but suddenly . . .”

Cassian stepped up behind her and ran a hand down her back. Her shoulders tensed, and he pulled his hand away. “I know,” he said. “I’ve been doing this for centuries, and I am still never ready for it.”

“Some of those men aren’t going to come back, are they?” Nesta asked quietly.

Cassian loosed a breath. “No.”

Nesta then whirled to face him. “Are you going to fight? Are you going to battle?”

His mouth formed a thin line as he nodded. “I must. This is my home. I need to defend it. I need to lead my men.”

Something like anguish filled Nesta’s face. She swallowed. “What if . . . what if you don’t come back?”

Cassian’s heart raced, his blood warmed. He wanted to _hold_ her, dammit, but he could tell that wasn’t what she wanted. He just watched the storm roil through her eyes as he said gently, “Then I will have died the only way I would choose to die. Protecting what I love. Protecting the Night Court, and Rhys, and Feyre, and everyone else. Protecting _you_.” He gathered both of her hands in his, hoping she would consent to this touch, at least. He was filled with profound relief when she didn’t pull away.

“I’ve never had anyone want to protect me before,” Nesta breathed, eyes fixed on their entwined hands, hers so small compared to her. “My mother, I suppose, but her protection was cold, almost cruel. Feyre wanted to keep us alive, but she was bound by the oath she made our mother. You . . . you’re not like that. Why? You don’t have to care about me, don’t owe me a damn thing, but you’re still here. Why?”

Words tumbled through Cassian’s mind faster than he could manage to say them. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but soon gave up. He _did_ owe her, he felt. Not just for failing to save her from the Cauldron--he wanted to make up from every damn thing done to harm her, by him or otherwise. This storm, his storm--she deserved more than she’d ever been granted.

She’d never been properly loved.

“I love you,” he rasped. “I can’t explain how or why, but I do, Nesta. And I swear to you, I won’t ask you to say it back, or to love me back, or accept the bond, or bed me . . . none of it. I couldn’t. You’ve . . . you haven’t been able to choose much in your life. I remember what that was like. So . . . so I won’t ask a damn thing of you until you choose it.” He raised their interlocked hands to his lips and kissed them.

A small anguished sound broke from her lips, and he saw tears lining her lower lids. No. Cauldron boil him, no. He hated seeing her like that. _No_. “If I asked you to make love to me,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her, “would you? Even if I’m still not sure I’m ready for the bond?”

The air was too tight--he couldn’t breathe. “Only if you wanted it.”

“Would you want to do it even if I told you that I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance if this war starts and I lose you? If there’s never . . . if we’re separated and I’ll have never known . . .” Her voice trailed off and her face turned red as she cast her eyes to the floor. She steeled herself and said, “It’s not the sex,” she clarified. “I’ve lived this long without it and still could. But you, Cassian . . . I want to know what it’s like with _you_.”

Cassian lowered his forehead to hers, feeling as though nothing at all in the world existed besides the two of them. When she’d begun--he’d prepared himself to hear that she only wanted him for the sex, to know what that felt like in case she died. In case he did. But it wasn’t that. He could see it in her eyes, smell it on her breath. She genuinely wanted _him_ , and he had no words to express the euphoria that filled him at that.

“Nesta, sweetheart, you should know that I’ve been longing crawl under your skin for a while now,” he said, his voice pitched low. He lowered his head to graze his nose along her jaw, breathing in her captivating scent of steel and anise. He allowed himself to press one kiss there. “I’ll admit,” he continued into her ear, “that you have just made me a very, very happy man.” He reached his hand up to tug at the combs that held her hair back from her hair, allowing the silk of it to tumble around his fingers. “But to be clear . . . are you asking?”

Nesta sucked in a breath and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m asking.”

Cassian combed through her hair, and then his surprisingly nimble fingers slowly began to unhook each clasp down the back of her tunic. “I know you’re a woman who knows what she wants,” he drawled, his voice rumbling in his chest, “and I don’t expect any less from you now. So . . . tell me if you like this.” He stroked up the exposed skin of her back with two fingers and she shuddered.

“Yes,” she said. “I like that.”

“And this?” he spun her around so that her back pressed to him, and then he slid his hand under her loose tunic and spread his fingers across the smooth skin of her abdomen--one finger stretching up just slightly to the skin between her breasts. He stroked her skin, nuzzling his face into her neck.

“Yes,” she said tightly. “That, too.”

His other hand joined the first, allowing his right hand to slide up further under her tunic and trace the underside of her breasts with his knuckle. Then he uncurled his hand to cup her whole breast, finger flicking against her nipple.

She went stiff, and he stopped moving his hand. “Nesta?” he murmured.

She let out a tiny moan. “Yes. _Yes_. I _like_ it, Cassian.”

And his name on her lips undid him. He clutched her tight, squeezing her breast and wresting a louder groan from her. She threw her head back against his shoulder and her hand rose to her collar to tear her own tunic off, casting it on the floor in front of her. She growled and pulled away from him, only to whirl around and start fumbling with the buttons down the front of his tunic. He was struck dumb as he stared at the bare skin of her chest, the fullness of her beautiful breasts and the delicious pink of her nipples.

She finished with his tunic and ran her cold hands up the front of his chest, over the taut muscles of his torso. She tried to pull off the tunic entirely, but frowned when it wouldn’t slide off.

Cassian chuckled. “You missed a part, dear.” He jerked his head to indicate his wings.

Nesta huffed, but Cassian simply turned and indicated the buttons that secured his tunic around his wings. Her fingers worked faster, and Cassian gritted his teeth as they occasionally brushed against his wings themselves.

“How the hell does this _work_?” she hissed. Suddenly, Cassian felt heat at his back and looked at the floor, gaping, as his now singed shirt smoked slightly in a pile on the floor. He was about to protest, but he went ramrod straight as she pressed her mouth to the skin where his wings joined his back and her hands traveled across his abdomen. He groaned as he felt her tongue _licking_ there, like she was literally going to devour him.

“ _Nesta_ ,” he groaned as he went hard. Her hands were firm on his shoulders and they pushed down until he was on his knees before her. Mother’s tits, this _woman_ \--

She walked around him, running her fingers along his wing, until she was standing before him. Cassian groaned and pressed his forehead to her torso, laying a kiss on the skin of of her stomach. His hands rose to cradle her hips and he tugged just slightly. She joined him on her knees, cradling his thick neck in her hands.

His eyes locked on hers, those beautiful stormy eyes, and a burst of terror struck him as her beauty wrecked him. She saw it on his face and tilted her head. “What is it?” she asked.

“I just . . .” Cassian said, his breath ragged. “I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

He hadn’t wanted to think about it--he hadn’t thought about it much at all in these past days with Nesta, which was a miracle in itself. But the last time he had been a woman’s first, that woman had been Mor. And that had been a royal mess. They’d moved on, established some kind of relationship despite it. Cassian knew he would still do anything for Mor, that she still held a part of his heart that he could never relinquish. He’d sworn that he would never bed a virgin again, but _Nesta_ . . .

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “How do you think _I_ feel? I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

Cassian’s laugh rumbled in his throat. “You could have fooled me, sweetheart.”

The look of innocent delight that flashed across Nesta’s face was precious, and Cassian wanted to shower her with kisses. “Really?” she asked.

“Really,” he said, and he kissed her between the eyebrows. Then he stole a gentle kiss from her lips. “Let’s just . . . take it slow.”

“Slow is good,” Nesta agreed.

Cassian raised his hand to take one of hers from the back of his neck, and he slowly lowered it to where his hard cock waited for her. “This is what you do to me, Nesta,” he growled, placing her hand over him, though he was still contained within his trousers. “Does that scare you?”

Nesta’s lips were slightly parted as her hands and eyes understood at once. “That’s supposed to go inside me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He lowered his face to kiss her neck. “Only if you want it to.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Nesta said, the self-deprecation breaking in her voice.

“No, no,” Cassian sighed, using his other hand to pull her closer to his chest. “Don’t. You’re perfect, Nesta. _Perfect_.” He murmured this into her neck as he began to press kisses there.

Nesta let out a nervous laugh, tilting her head back as he kissed her. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

“A true romantic, you are,” he muttered, but his hand rose from hers to cradle her shoulder, his palm so broad he covered her easily. His thumb stroked her skin and she shuddered, only to melt into him more. “Tell me what you want to do . . . what you want to try,” he said.

Nesta seemed to think. “Well . . . a bed might be nice, for starters. I know Feyre and Rhys can do it wherever, but I’d like to be a touch more civilized.”

Cassian laughed, but he gathered her into his arms and trudged through the hall to the bedroom--which thankfully had a bed big enough for both of them. “We might start out civilized, but no promises that we’ll stay that way,” he said before he set her down and laid a deep kiss on her lips.

“I think I’m a little done with the stalling,” Nesta said, and she rose from the bed to strip her trousers off, leaving only a bit of underwear behind. Then she took a seat again, looking at him pointedly.

He was momentarily dumbstruck by the sheer force of _her_ \--not just her beauty, though that was considerable, but just how badly she made him want her. His pulse roared through him now like it did only in the heat of battle--but this was a different challenge entirely. Nesta sat with one leg curled in front of her, holding her ankle with both hands while she drank him in with her eyes.

His mouth dry, he fumbled with his belt buckle and slid his trousers down, finally freeing himself. Nesta’s eyes went a little wide. “I . . .” she started with a little gasp. “I’m really not sure how that’s supposed to fit inside me.”

Cassian ducked his head and grinned broadly. Cauldron boil him, he adored her. “I’m flattered,” he said, winking at her. But then he prowled closer to the bed and planted his hands on either side of the bed beside her. “But I promise, Nesta dear. I have my methods.” He kissed her hungrily, moving his mouth slowly against hers until she opened her lips to him, allowing him to slide his tongue in, too. His hand rose to cup the back of her head, and he lowered her down onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss. His heart rate ratcheted and he felt hers do the same as he crawled up on the bed over top of her.

He propped himself up on the elbow on the arm that held her head, and the other hand slide down her body to finger the undergarments she hadn’t removed. “May I get these out of your way?” he asked against her mouth. She nodded and bit his lip just slightly. He rolled them down her hips and she arched just a bit to help. When his path was clear, he laid his hand over her most delicate, untouched parts. “Do you feel it, Nesta?” he asked. “You’re getting ready for me.” He stroked her once and she shook beneath him.

“Hell,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

He paused. “Tell me what you want, Nesta. Is that good? Do you _like_ that?”

She growled. “Yes, I damn well like it,” she snapped.

He laughed and nipped her earlobe as he stroked her again. He hissed as she felt her wetness. “You’re opening up for me,” he purred as he nuzzled her neck. “You’re wet, Nesta, because you want me. And you can handle me. Better than anyone else, I’m willing to bet.”

“Do you just like listening to yourself talk?” Nesta ground out as she writhed beneath him.

“Of course,” Cassian replied. “But by the way I have you squirming . . . I’m thinking you like it, too.”

“You like having your damn pride stroked,” she gasped, raising her hands to grip his shoulders. “ _Get on with it_.”

Cassian’s hunger rippled through him. Oh, how he loved teasing her. But he would have mercy tonight--this first time. Though maybe one day she would let him go on with it a little longer.

He shifted over top of her and nudged her legs apart with his. “Ready?” he asked, checking one last time before the decision was made and there was no going back.

“I’m ready,” she said. “I . . . I trust you, Cassian.”

That was all the invitation he needed.

Slowly, so as not to hurt or overwhelm her, he entered her. She gasped at the initial contact but held his shoulders tightly, keeping him from pulling away. And he let out a moan at the feeling of _her_ all around him, how absolutely right he’d been. She handled him.

He paused within her and murmured into her ear. “I told you I’d fit.”

“Bastard,” she muttered, but her mouth was a wide smile. Cassian laughed breathlessly at the change in the word, at the pure affection in it.

She drew in a ragged breath and then, as though testing, she rolled her hips around him, exploring the new sensation of their joining. Cassian let out a broken groan and pushed himself deeper within her. A tiny sound escaped her lips. “You feel so _good_ ,” he rasped. He slid out just slightly and her nails dug into his shoulders as though afraid he would leave her, but he only pushed back inside again, eliciting a long groan from the woman beneath him. “Nesta, you’re--” He choked on the words as the pleasure addled his mind. He swallowed with difficulty. “Faster?” he asked.

Nesta whimpered, a sound that sent lightning into his veins. “Yes, please.”

He braced himself properly over her and began to increase his pace in her, working up bit by bit until she matched him, rocking her body around him as he pulsed in and out. She arched her back, and every thrust of his drew a small cry from Nesta’s lips. He kept his eyes fixed on her face, on that radiant, exuberant smile. Her nails marked him over his shoulders and upper arms, and he only looked away from her enough to kiss her neck and nip the skin there, even as he thrust himself inside her.

“I feel you, Nesta,” he grunted. “I see you. I know what you want.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice a breathless gasp. One hand still held him and the other grappled at the sheets on the bed. She bucked her hips up against him, her body learning at every moment, following his example and dredging up instincts deep inside her that knew this unperformed dance.

Cassian lifted himself up, not enough to pull out, and slid his hand between their writhing hips to find the jewel between her legs. He rolled his fingers over it in time to the rhythm of their dance.

“ _Shit_ , Cassian,” Nesta moaned, dragging out the first word.

“Oh, I like hearing you curse, sweetheart,” he said, unrelenting in his motions. He leaned close again and said, “Hold on tight.” With the perfect combination of thrusting and stroking, he felt her break around him, felt the pleasure wash over her as she screamed--actually _screamed_ \--and swore like the worst of his soldiers.

He scooped an arm under her back and lifted her against him, the other hand continuing to work her through the waves that made her body tremble. “I’ve got you,” he said. “That’s right, Nesta. Sweetheart, you’re _perfect_.”

Her climax ended, but he wasn’t quite done yet. His wings curled in around them as he continued to rock inside her from their new position on their knees. He had slowed down, letting her recover, and she pressed into him, both of them now sweat-slicked. “What in the Mother’s name did you just do to me?” she demanded, still panting.

“See what you’ve been missing out on?” he teased, running his hand over her backside. He squeezed just slightly and she whimpered, grinding against his length still inside her.

“I was waiting for a skilled partner,” she teased, drawing a full kiss from his lips. “It was worth the wait.” Then she seized his mouth with hers, kissing him fiercely and grabbing the sides of his face as she increased her pace against him, taking the lead in their dance.

“Nesta. _Nesta_.” He panted her name over and over against her lips, bucking his hips into her as she began to completely overwhelm him. He was getting close.

She tore her mouth away and locked her stormy eyes onto his. “I heard a rumor,” she said huskily, “about Illyrian males and their wings.”

Cassian groaned as she reached over his shoulder to stroke the strong muscle near his wing joint. He trembled as she drew her finger higher, over the bone, until her hand hovered just over the membrane that was wrapped around them. He held his breath as she slowly, luxuriously, stroked her fingers over the sensitive membrane.

A fierce snarl ripped from his lips and she drew her hand away, but he ground out, “Yes, Nesta. Please. _Finish me_.”

She grinned wickedly as her hand slowly stroked the membrane near his second digit, nails scraping just slightly. Pulses of erotic pleasure seized Cassian’s body and he bucked harder into her, growling her name until, at long last, her fingers found just the right spot and Cassian unleashed himself within her.

It rocked him so hard that he pushed her back down onto the bed and sprawled over her, devouring her neck as his climax overwhelmed him. She moaned as he spilled himself in her, hands struggling to find purchase on his slick skin. She, too, found a climax along with him, and when they had both exhausted themselves, Cassian collapsed on top of her, both of them panting and holding onto each other so tightly it was as if they both feared coming apart outside of each other’s arms.

Still trembling, Cassian rolled onto his side, gathering Nesta into his arms. He kissed her forehead gently. “How do you feel? Are you all right?”

She laughed into his chest. “What a stupid question. I’m better than all right, Cassian.”

His palms ran over her back in luxurious strokes. “No regrets?” he asked. He sounded casual about it, but the question ran deeper than he thought she knew. Because . . . because there had been regrets before. And if she felt that way . . . he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

“None whatsoever.”

The profound relief surged through him and he kissed the top of her head.

“You’d better survive this damn war,” Nesta growled, looking up at him through locks of hair plastered across her face.

He brushed the hair away and said. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because I want you to do that again.” She kissed his chest. “And again.” A kiss to his throat. “And again.” She laid a sensuous kiss on his lips.

“If I have this to look forward to,” Cassian said, “I don’t think anything could stop me from coming back to you, sweetheart.”

“At least I know you’re good for your word, commander.”

Those words almost wrecked him anew, but he did not want to push her. And they had work to do tomorrow. So he tucked her into his chest and ran his hand through her hair, soothing her to sleep. And as he drifted into sleep himself, he prayed thanks to the Mother for the storm within his arms.


End file.
